


Merely Players

by korvidae



Series: Fire Siblings Week 2020 [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Character Study, Fire Siblings Week 2020, Gen, Incessant Introspection, Shakespeare Misquotes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27108040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/korvidae/pseuds/korvidae
Summary: Azula would leave it to the others to play. Her calling had always been in directing.Or: Azula considers the phrase “theatre of war.”(Fire Siblings Week 2020 Day 1: Theatre)
Relationships: Azula & Ursa (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Ursa & Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Fire Siblings Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1978597
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	Merely Players

**Author's Note:**

> Set at the beginning of Book 2 Chapter 1 “The Avatar State.”

The crew of the ship stood at anxious attention. Azula’s eyes, hawk-like in their searching intensity, roved across them, drinking in their terror with unconcealed satisfaction.

When Azula had accepted her father’s mission of capturing her traitorous brother and uncle, she knew there would be some comforts she would need to leave behind. However, one element of her routine that she refused to sacrifice was her need for quiet in the morning. Azula felt her most productive first thing upon waking and valued those early, silent hours for the clarity they offered her. Upon being granted command of the ship, she had made it _explicitly clear_ that if she were in any way disturbed before making her morning rounds, the punishment for those responsible would be _severe_.

Azula had been overseeing this ship for four days now, during which time she experienced no issues. That was until this morning. Two officers had gotten into an argument, which had escalated to a shouting match, and culminated in a bloody-knuckled fistfight. The ensuing brawl riled up the lower ranks, creating a ruckus that interrupted Azula just as she was composing a letter to her father. (The brush had snapped between her fingers, spattering ink everywhere and ruining her otherwise impeccable penmanship).

Now, the crew stood before Azula as if awaiting an execution.

“Step forward,” she commanded in an even, calm voice. Haltingly, the offending officers obeyed her.

Azula paused and examined her nails while the men trembled before her.

“Are either of you a firebender?” she asked casually, only then looking at them. They both shook their heads vigorously.

Azula pouted. Now that really was a pity. She would’ve liked nothing more than to see these fools dual an Agni Kai on the ship’s bow. She paused again to luxuriate in their discomfort, then let out a dramatic sigh.

“Lieutenant?” A short man standing off to the left suddenly jumped half a foot in the air. “See these men to the holding cells. They are to be kept there as prisoners until we reach port.” Several men looked at Azula and each other with a mixture of fear and confusion. She sighed again.

“Both of you are henceforth discharged and banished. If either of you is seen again on Fire Nation soil, you will be arrested for treason. _Do I make myself clear_?” The confusion instantly vacated and made way to horrified understanding. Azula sat back on her throne and addressed the rest of the pale, clammy crew.

“You are dismissed. _Get back to work_.”

* * *

Apart from this morning’s mishap, Azula was rather enjoying her stint as commander of this vessel. The men never questioned her, and while the other commanding officers might offer suggestions, they were too afraid to invoke her ire by pressing her.

The crew was still jumpy, but after a few hours, everything seemed back to normal. The men saw to their duties without further instruction, and Azula decided to return to her letters and plans for the duration of what would now be an uneventful morning.

Azula removed another letter from its courier tube. Another copy of another report—this time from the army—which she simply needed to review and reply with her signature to indicate she was made aware of it. As her eyes slid over the page, the phrase “theatre of war” caught her attention and made the corner of her mouth quirk up. 

As she inked her signature in the necessary places, her mind brought her back to the countless hours she and Zuko spent in playhouses and private performances growing up. Her mind lingered on how their mother had taken it upon herself to ensure that her children received some artistic education. “ _Drama is one of the ways our peoples’ history has been shared for countless generations_ ,” she had told them with unflinching earnestness.

Zuko had clearly gotten his enthusiasm for the theatre from their mother. He certainly couldn’t _act_ to save his life, but Zuko took to reading like a turtleduck to water even from an early age. There were a few years right up until he was banished where you could reliably find him off on his own reading some archaic historical drama, even it hadn’t been assigned to him for school. He used to help Azula with her literature studies whenever a story went over her head. He always received better marks in literature and languages than she did; for one so awkward in his own speech, he was surprisingly adept at the subtleties of interpretation. She had envied that about him, how he was able to look beyond the story simply as it was written on the page and find the implications and symbolism hidden within. She never understood how it was so easy for him to see all the tiny details she so frequently overlooked in search of the bigger picture.

Azula shook her head to silence her thoughts. Of _course_ Zuko was better at these things—he was highly sensitive and overly emotional, and so much energy in storytelling was spent manipulating the reader’s emotions. And, really, what did Azula lose as a future ruler by missing the narrative nuances of _The Last Sacrifice of Queen Izayoi_ or _The Seven Flowers of Autumn_?

Her eyes went back to _theatre of war_. If drama was a method of sharing the Fire Nation’s history, the battlefield was where that history was created. This was hardly a revelation. Even the most flowery and feminine of romances usually involved men pining for women they left on their march to battle or wives who were torn between keeping faithful to husbands sent away and the affections of young men who came to their aid. If it wasn’t the focal point, war hid in the corners of every piece penned over the last century, which seemed only right to Azula.

Considering how significant the Hundred Year War had been for the Fire Nation, the art produced ought to reflect its glorious impact. Azula crammed her documents into a messenger-hawk tube. She vaguely remembered a quote she’d heard from her mother once: “ _All the world’s a stage, and all the people in it merely players_.” Azula snorted.

She would leave it to the others to play. Her calling had always been in directing.

Azula held out the tube for an attendant to take and busied herself with opening another message, this time a series of maps and plans for an upcoming attack on Ba Sing Se. Azula smiled.

She decided then that when she captured her brother, she’d let him have a few classics to keep him occupied in prison; after all, she wasn’t a _total_ monster.

And while Zuko sat in his cell, Azula was going to _live_ the story, triumphantly stepping into legend as a figure to be memorialized on page and stage for generations to come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Comments are appreciated.
> 
> (Edited 5 January 2021)


End file.
